


Procurement Strategy

by Macx



Series: Shadowside [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xavier mansion is a big, empty place that no one has lived in for a very long time. With Charles healing from his injuries, Erik is in charge of a bunch of teenage kids -- and realizes they will need more than just money to make this dream of Charles' a reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Procurement Strategy

**Author's Note:**

> The idea was born when my friend Sapphire remarked that Charles wouldn’t be able to take care of the manor alone. He needs help, like a gardener, a housekeeper, a cook…

It was clear that the Xavier manor hadn’t been lived in for a while. Probably over a decade. Or more. The furniture was covered in white linen, protecting it from dust. Most windows had been draped closed. There was just enough food in the fridge to last another day or two, with so many hungry mouths and teenagers still growing up.

Erik Lensherr stood in one of the unused rooms, shaking his head. The manor was the perfect place, but it needed work. It needed people.

But those people needed food.

Raven had told him she had dialed up an old family friend who had promised to deliver enough for a while and since she had access to the ‘trust fund’ as Charles called the bank account, the delivery was also paid for. But things needed to get organized. The pressing matter of stopping Shaw had been resolved and now… now there were several teenagers with incredible abilities who needed guidance, two adult former enemy mutants who were hanging around because there was no one else to command them, and Charles.

Charles, who was injured.

Charles, who was confined to bed.

Charles…

Erik opened the drapes to let light in and groaned at the light sheen of dust. He unlatched the windows using his skills and fresh air replaced the staler one.

All across the manor the others were doing the same. Still not over the shock of the final battle and seeing Charles wounded, not yet accepting the uneasy truce between them and the three mutants who had worked for Shaw, they were jumping at whatever they could do to take their minds off things.

There were a lot of those things.

Erik kept an eye on matters, taking advantage of the fact that Riptide and Azazel seemed to bow to his powers. Azazel could easily kill him, he knew. But something was keeping the teleporter from assuming control, usurping the position. Angel was trying to find her way back into the group, but he betrayal sat heavily with the others. Not even Charles had luck intervening on her behalf.

She was still at the mansion, but Erik saw her draw away. He had no idea how to handle it. This was something Charles was good at. He was better ‘parent’ material.

But Charles was injured.

Guilt rose inside him and he pushed it away.

His fault. He had done it. He had nearly done much worse than leave the telepath with a flesh wound, a chipped hip bone and several stitches. If the bullet had hit the spine…

Erik felt anger rise and the metal of the room started to vibrate. He inhaled sharply, trying to control himself, but the self-hatred made it difficult.

It’s why he avoided Charles for now. He threw himself into work, into taking care of the mansion and the children.

From one day to the other Angel disappeared.

It hurt Charles. Badly.

There was nothing Erik could do. And Charles, despite his telepathic abilities, only tried to talk to Angel once.

“She blames herself for Darwin’s death,” he told Erik one evening, eyes shadowed, face too smooth and blank.

They were sitting in one of the many rooms of the mansion. It was small, very private, and off the usual exploration path of the kids. Charles liked it because of the high windows and the fire place. Erik liked it because…

He pushed that thought away.

Charles still looked too pale and too weak compared to before. He was moving rather well again and physical therapy helped, but there was a lot on his mind and he was stretching himself too thin.

Now Angel had left.

It hurt.

“They blame her. She might come back one day, but she asked to leave her alone.”

Erik wanted to touch the other man, soothe the hurt, take away the weight of so much responsibility that was crashing down on him.

Instead he stayed where he was, on the opposite side of the table that for once didn’t contain a game of chess. He watched the telepath stare at the fire flickering not far away.

::Not your fault:: he thought loudly, hoping Charles might pick it up.

The faint smile told him he had. ::It is. I asked her to join us::

“You can’t see into the future, Charles. She made her choice to join Shaw. She was attracted to his power.” Erik leaned closer. “I knew him all my life. I know his power. She is just a child inside a young woman’s body. She wanted freedom. Give it to her.”

Another weak smile and he wanted nothing more than to touch the other man. But he held back, too confused by his own emotions.

*

Three months later the manor was still too big and too empty, but at least it looked marginally more lived in. Two more mutants had joined them. One had actually contacted Erik. They had met the young man while out recruiting to fight Shaw. Tim Ruth had decided to give them a chance, show him what they could teach him.

Charles had been so excited and happy, Erik had involuntarily smiled himself.

Another was a fifteen-year-old street kid who could bend his body in a way no normal human could. He could flatten his body to just an inch or elongate it into a tight rope. Erik had been impressed. Charles had been like a kid at Christmas.

“You’re so easy,” Erik teased him.

“W-what?”

He squeezed one narrow shoulder. “Give you a groovy mutation and you light up like a Christmas tree.”

Charles looked embarrassed, a light flush coloring his cheeks. Erik felt something shiver through him at the sight and the confusion he had felt for a long time now increased.

He was fighting a losing battle concerning this man.

But he wasn’t about to just surrender.

Liquid blue eyes me his, so wide and innocent and young… Erik had to pull himself together. This man was just two years his junior, but sometimes Charles was no older than the teenagers he now had in his home.

*

Charles had found them help for the kitchen.

Kitchen.

Erik nearly laughed.

He knew people who lived in places that were smaller than this so-called kitchen. And there was more than one, too. He had only once walked into the gigantic room that would make ever restaurant gourmet cook weep in appreciation and had decided then and there never to be surprised again. At least when it came to this place.

Charles had only smiled, almost embarrassed, and promised to get job interviews done.

The cook was the first to join them. Anna Sheridan was actually a family friend and Charles knew her from his childhood when she had been at the house. She also knew about how special Charles and Raven had been, and she had no qualms cooking for a bunch of mutant kids. She was no mutant herself and the challenge in her eyes when facing Erik hat been clear.

“Feisty,” Erik remarked when they sat together in the evening after the first job interview.

“She is.” Charles smiled over the chessboard. “Can you work with her?”

“Because she’s not like us? Charles, I’m not that prejudiced.”

::Are you really?:: came the telepathic question.

He bit back on a sharp reply, instead looking at the chess board. He was already hopelessly screwed and a few moves away from check mate.

“It’s your house,” he finally muttered.

“Ours. It’s your home, too.”

Something Charles had kept repeating over and over again. He had yet to think of it as ‘his’. The children might not have such qualms, but Erik Lensherr had lost his home a long time ago and never found another. Just like he had lost his parents. And his people. Everything.

Erik refused to look up, but he felt the light touch on his mind.

“Stay out,” he only said.

“I was never inside.”

“Then stop poking!”

Erik looked up, glaring daggers, and was met with a mild smile and those amused blue eyes that seemed to see right into his soul. Something inside that soul keened softly, wanting more, but he pushed it back.

“Anna is a good woman, Erik. She will be fine here. The question is, can you work with her?”

“Yes.”

“Really.”

“Yes! Who else do you want to hire? Or do you plan on cooking yourself?” He smirked.

Charles shrugged, but there was a blush of embarrassment. Raven could cook a little, but Charles could burn water, as she had once remarked.

“Professor?” Erik teased.

“Oh, stop that.”

He chuckled and made a move, which was immediately counter-acted by Charles. Three more and he would be dead.

“You think one hired help is enough?” Erik asked, studying the board again.

“For now, yes. If we truly find more mutants willing to let us help them, we might need to expand. Anna told me she has no problem cooking for up to ten. After that it might get tricky.”

Erik played his last few moves in silence, tipping over his king before Charles could make his final move to kill it.

*

The gardener came just a week later. Erik and Charles had found him on one of their recruiting trips. With the destruction of Cerebro all they had were the coordinates and Charles’ ‘feelings’ he had had while locating so many of their kind.

Up and very mobile, Charles had insisted that they take up travelling again. He was paying for it. Erik had been wary of leaving teenagers at the manor unsupervised.

“They won’t be,” Azazel interrupted their discussion.

Erik glared at the red-skinned mutant. The man moved as silent as a ghost!

Charles smiled brightly at him. So far his fascination with the mutation in Azazel knew no bounds and he was only held back by his manners and a good degree of respect. Erik had found him questioning the teleporter now and then, and he had been astounded how calmly Azazel answered.

“Thank you, Azazel,” Charles answered. “I appreciate it.”

Not that the children would. They were really respectful of the powerful mutant and tried never to get on his bad side.

“We won’t be long. Just a few days.”

“I can handle a bunch of children while Mom and Dad are away.”

It was almost comical the way Charles spluttered, but Erik refused to grin. Instead he shot Azazel a dark, warning look.

“What?” the mutant asked.

It was scary how he managed to pull off looking innocent. Very, very scary..

Erik grabbed his lover’s arm and pulled the telepath away.

::Mom and Dad?!:: Charles asked, aghast.

“Face it. You’re the Mom, Charles.”

It got him a glare and Charles huffed, but he didn’t shake off the hand now curled gently around his wrist, nor did he fight the kiss that Erik placed against his lips when the door closed behind them.

“I don’t think you’re the girl, Charles,” he murmured when they parted, sending his conviction loudly for the telepath to hear.

Equals. Strong and powerful. Hot and passionate. Wonderful and warm. Needed and loved. So much stronger than Erik could ever be himself.

Charles looked at him, stunned, the blue eyes expressive.

“Screw Azazel,” Erik added.

“I’d rather not.” Amusement flooded through him.

Erik snorted a laugh and buried his face against Charles’ neck. Nimble fingers slipped under his black shirt, caressing warm skin over lean muscles.

“If you want to get going today,” Erik rumbled, “you better stop now.”

The mischief was hard to miss. As was the playfulness. Charles nipped at his chin, then pushed away. Erik mourned the loss of the warm body in his arms.

“We better pack then.”

“Yes, Mom.”

::One more joke and you get a separate room::

As if, Erik mused. But then again, he didn’t want to risk it.

* * *

The mutant they found on the trip was a young man, about five years their junior, who was already working as a landscape artist. His mutation had him completely in tune with all forms of plant life. He could grow plants from a seed to a full grown specimen within minutes. He bent their growth pattern to his will and he could even influence color.

Charles had watched the demonstration of his power with bright eyes, a wide smile and an enthusiasm that had Erik envious of so much attention. He was gushing about genetics and mutations all the way back and Erik let him ramble on.

He liked to hear him talk.

A lot.

Like a warm rain on his skin.

“I know my limits, professor,” Greg said, his almost unnaturally green eyes on the telepath. “I would come work at your place, but don’t expect me to take part in classes or some kind of battle training. I’m not a soldier.”

“Would you let me document your gift?”

Greg shrugged. “Sure.”

And that was that.

At night, in the hotel, Erik had wondered about the power Charles had over people without actually needing to use his telepathy. Those wide blue eyes, the boyish good looks, that pale skin and the smooth manners…

He violently shook his head.

No.

 _Don’t go there_ , he told himself.

Too bad he was already there.

*

Of course the kids tested the newcomer. They were teenagers. They would pick at the new guy, to see how far they could push him, if he was an underdog.

Erik was impressed by the results. Havoc and Banshee were strung up in a web of vines that had shot out of the ground, keeping them immobile, looking mortified.

“Taught you a lesson, hm?” Erik asked, hands in the pockets of his pants, looking for all and everyone completely bored. He shot a smile at Greg. “Nice work, kid.”

Their future gardener shrugged. “It’s not the first time.”

“Hm, I guess.” Erik looked up at Banshee and Havoc, both looking contrite and embarrassed by their situation. “You two…”

“Uhm,” Banshee tried.

“You’re grounded. For a month.” Why did he sound like a parent?

“But…”

“Two months.”

Okay, he really did sound like one… not that he felt like a father-figure. Not even like a teacher. But rules had been laid out before and if this thing was to run smoothly, the younger mutants would have to follow them. And someone had to uphold them. Right now that fell to Erik.

Havoc snapped his mouth shut. “Yes, sir.”

Erik grinned and shot Greg a look. The vines suddenly retracted and dumped the two younger men onto the ground.

“Any more stunts and you’ll never see sunlight again,” Erik said, sounding rather amiable.

They got to their feet and slunk off.

When he got back inside, Charles was waiting for him, looking highly amused.

“You’re getting good at that.”

“Shut up.”

Charles laughed and it was a warm and friendly sound. Erik hid a smile as he walked further into the mansion. Charles followed, falling into step beside him.

*

The housekeeper was harder to find, but the woman they finally employed was another mutant. She had declined training, as she was already in her forties, and she had had a good job as well. She was running her own hotel – on her own. It was a two story building in the heart of Washington with about ten rooms; no restaurant.

Erik had been stunned to discover that her mutation was to split herself into several independent parts, all aware of the other, all able to interact consciously with anyone they met.

“It’s not hard,” she had explained to the two men over a cup of tea – coffee for Erik. “It actually saves me a lot of time.”

“How many copies can you make?” Charles had asked, that bright-eyed look in his face again. He was clearly very happy with the discovery.

“About ten. After number eleven I tend to get a headache. I once tried fifteen and fainted.” Harriet smiled at his slack-jawed expression. “I apparently need a lot of nourishment to uphold more than ten copies. I never needed more.”

“And your radius?”

“Wide enough to run this place.”

Charles had offered her a job then. Erik had felt unwell for a moment, aware that it pushed a mutant into the service of mutants, that she might be offended.

“Let me think about it, Professor Xavier,” had been Harriet’s answer.

Two weeks later she started at the manor.

And finally the kids were cleaning up after themselves, stunned into obedience by the tight regiment Harriet was running when it came to ‘her’ house.

“What did you do to your hotel?” Erik asked her when she had brought in her bags. Well, several of her had brought in the bags.

“It’s for sale. A friend of mine is handling it. I guess it’ll be off the market in a week or two.”

She didn’t say more, but the way she threw herself into the upkeep of the Xavier manor showed that she had been the right choice.

Handling a bunch of teenagers turned out to be easy for her, especially since she seemed to be everywhere, and soon routine was back.

* * *

The next months seemed to blur.

Except for the moment Erik figured it out. Him and Charles. His emotions. Their changing relationship. Everything. He discovered a new side to himself. He discovered Charles Xavier. He discovered they were good together. He discovered a trust he had never placed in anyone.  
He found… everything.

And together they found mutants, some willing to listen to them, some almost sobbing in relief to know there was a place for them, and some just told them to go away and never return. It was in that time that Erik told Charles they would have to think of a new concept to recruit for the school.

While Charles wanted to come along, he wasn’t Harriet and couldn’t split himself into several copies of himself. He was needed at the manor, he had a school and safe haven for mutants to run, and there were political issues and bureaucratic matters.

Erik would handle the ‘cases’.

Charles relented after a long, hard and tiring discussion.

He made it up to his lover.

Slowly and warmly and with an emotion burning through him that left him breathless.

* * *

At first Erik went out alone. Then one of the older students asked to come along. Erik was surprised to discover that the young woman who only called herself Reaper was cool-headed, composed and very handy on such cases. He had no idea when and how it happened, but with her came Hayes and Blu, making up an almost regular team.

“So you’ve been upgraded to team leader,” Charles teased him, running gentle fingers through the dark hair.

Erik had his head on his lover’s lap, eyes closed, completely at ease. Charles was reading something, his hand always touching Erik. He twirled a finger into the longish strand and smoothed it out again.

“Hm,” he murmured, feeling too good to talk.

::You’ll do fine::

Erik opened his eyes and looked at the cover of a book hovering above him. He reached up and pushed the book away, looking at Charles with a smirk.

“You think?”

“I know.”

So much conviction.

Charles ran his finger over one temple, then his forehead, light and teasing. Erik reached up and stopped the maddening fingers, interlacing them with his. Something warm trickled through him. Something he hadn’t felt before Charles.

“You make me crazy, Charles.”

The warm smile that answered that statement had him pull the other man into a kiss.

“Mad, crazy, insane…” he murmured against the other man’s lips.

Charles dropped the book and fell onto the floor with a dull thud.

* * *

Charles crawled into bed, trying not to disturb the man already in it, but Erik’s eyes cracked open.

“Sorry,” the telepath apologized.

“Time?” his lover mumbled sleepily.

Charles shrugged. Erik groaned and rolled onto his back.

“Workaholic.”

“I just wanted to fin… yah!”

Charles was pulled into bed, barely able to catch himself, and Erik glared at him. He was a lot stronger than the telepath, and taller, and he could use it to his advantage.

“Sleep.”

It was an order and the dark brows drawn over narrowed gray eyes made it even more of one.

Charles kissed the other man, feeling the pliable lips under his own. Erik was deliciously sleepy and while Charles didn’t want to start anything, the temptation was too great.

Erik mumbled something uncomplimentary and pulled him close.

::I apologize, my friend:: Charles sent. ::I got lost::

::Buy you a map for Christmas:: was the annoyed growl.

He smiled and made himself comfortable, enjoying the feeling of the lean lines of the other man, the strength and the warmth.

“You feel good,” he murmured against the warm skin.

Erik nuzzled against his neck, planting sleepy kisses into the crook of his neck. Charles fell asleep like that, feeling Erik’s closeness, feeling his steady breaths, feeling the relaxed mind, and it was the most calming thing he had ever experienced.

* * *

Wavy hair. Floppy hair. Wavy, floppy hair.

Erik buried his nose in that hair, enjoying the lazy morning. No pressure, no appointments, no loud noises that alerted them to something or other involving mutant kids going wild around the manor. Just the twilight of morning, Charles in his bed, perfectly malleable and warm and asleep, and that floppy hair.

He cracked an eye open and grinned, then pushed himself up on one elbow to watch his lover sleep. Charles was dressed in one of his beloved pajamas. One of the ridiculous striped ones. They made him look like a kid. A kid with a big brain and an enthusiasm and energy Erik sometimes wanted to bottle and sell. He would be rich in no time.

Charles made a sleepy noise, brows furrowing a little, and suddenly blue eyes opened, looking straight at Erik.

“Creepy,” the telepath muttered.

“And a good morning to you, my friend.”

“You. Watching me. Sleeping.”

Erik reached out and pushed a lock of stubborn hair back out of the smooth forehead.

“And you got a hair obsession.”

“Not just the hair.”

It got him a sleepy huff.

“I wish you’d stop insisting on those silly pajamas, Charles.”

“They are not silly.”

Erik caught the look and glanced at his own choice of sleep wear. A black t-shirt and gray boxers. “What?” he teased, a grin on his lips.

“At least I show some cultural breeding.”

“You show bad taste, professor.” Erik leaned forward and brushed a kiss over the warm lips.

“You keep up your criticism of my sleep wear and you won’t see me in this bed at all.”

Erik nibbled a path down Charles’ throat, drawing a sharp intake of air when he teethed a known hot stop.

“Promises, promises,” he whispered against the damp skin.

::Erik… don’t… start…::

He looked up into the blue eyes swimming with arousal. “It’s Sunday, Charles. No pressing matters. Nothing at all. Just you and me and no one else.”

“The children…”

“Can take care of themselves. Just us, Charles. Just us.” ::For once, please. Just us::

The other man leaned down, kissing him, slow and sensual and mind-numbing and driving him crazy. He wanted to tie him down, to this bed, never let him up again. He wanted to feel that incredible mind with him, wanted him anchored there forever.

::Just us:: Charles whispered.

The images coming through their connection were downright…

“Kinky,” Erik rumbled.

“Just listening to your ideas.”

“Hm, adventurous, too. I didn’t know you were into this, Charles.”

It got him a grin. A cocky, cocky grin. Something spiked through Erik, made him want this man so badly it was almost painful.

“You’re bad for me, Charles Xavier,” he whispered.


End file.
